


Learning to Get Along

by RavenclawAngel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Frenemies Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson, Gen, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Torture, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-01-10 04:46:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12291552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenclawAngel/pseuds/RavenclawAngel
Summary: Sam, Steve, and Bucky have been working together for months to clean up the last of Hydra after the collapse of SHIELD and things have been...not terrible between Bucky and Sam, as long as Steve is there to keep the peace. But when Steve is captured Bucky and Sam are going to have to put aside their differences if they want to save Steve. Can they?





	1. Hot dogs vs Sandwiches

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because the world needs more Sam and Bucky snark.

The sky is blue. Water is wet. Bucky and Sam can’t spend more than ten minutes together without bickering like children. These are the facts of life that Steve Roger has reluctantly come to accept. It’s humbling to admit, but not even his legendary stubbornness is enough to reign in Sam and Bucky’s constant sniping.

For the moment though Steve is _not_ thinking about Bucky or Sam or their mutual need to have the last word. For the moment the only thing Steve is thinking about is capturing the way the light reflects off of the cars as he sketches the scene outside his hotel window.

They’re in Nevada at the moment. Ever since Bucky had come home with a wealth of knowledge on Hydra bases from all over the world, the three of them have been methodically investigating each one. Most of them are abandoned, either decades ago or more recently after the collapse of SHIELD exposed them to the world, but every once in a while they take down an active base. Times like that make it all worth it, in Steve’s opinion, and the base they are investigating now seems likely to be active from the preliminary reports.

Steve finishes his sketch with a flourish and closes his notebook. He checks the time. Bucky and Sam should be back any moment with dinner, assuming they haven’t killed each other yet. This is the third time this week Steve has sent them off together on an errand, partly on the vague hope that the more time they spend together the more friendly they’ll behave towards each other, but mostly so Steve can get some peace and quiet. If anyone asks though, it’s definitely for the former reason.

Familiar heavy bootsteps in the hall, and the even more familiar sound of voices, tell of dinner’s arrival. Steve opens the door as Bucky and Sam enter, both carrying boxes of pizza. They had found out rather quickly that Bucky’s enhanced metabolism burned through food almost as fast as Steve’s, and Sam was no slouch in the eating department either.

“I can’t believe you, are you just being difficult on purpose? Because I think you’re just being difficult on purpose now,” Sam says as he enters. They’re arguing again, Steve is shocked. _Really_.  Ignoring them both, Steve takes the pizzas and puts them on their tiny kitchenette table.

“You just can’t accept that you’re wrong pal,” Bucky responds. Steve grabs three beers from the fridge and also puts them on the table.

“I’m wrong? You’re the one who doesn’t understand the definition of a sandwich.”

“Yes I do, and the hotdog is definitely not a sandwich.”

Steve stops halfway through putting paper plates on the table to stare at them. This is what they are arguing about? Was this really worth getting into an argument over? How did this argument ever start.

“Really? Because it’s a piece of meat in bread. That seems pretty sandwich like to me.” Sam snaps

Bucky opens his mouth to respond, but Steve heads him off before the argument can get any dumber by stepping between them and handing them both a plate full of pizza.

“Enough, both of you. Let’s go over the plan for tomorrow.” Steve says firmly. The argument mercifully ends, though Steve suspects, more to the fact that there is food in their hands than because of him.

“Sam, you’ll go ahead and scout out things from above. Let us know guards, weapons, anything suspicious. Bucky and I will head in from the ground. Once we find a way in, we’ll let you know how active it is. If it’s another dead base we’ll do a sweep, collect any intel left behind and wipe it. If it’s not, Sam be prepared to give us cover.”

“Sure Cap.”

“Yep.”

Steve relaxes into his seat enjoying the rare moment of peace. The silence is broken only by the sounds of chewing. Steve looks at his friends fondly. For all the fighting the two of get into, Steve can honestly say that there are no two people he would rather have at his side tomorrow. He isn’t sure how he managed to get lucky with two friends as good and loyal as Sam and Bucky.

“Stop grinning like that, it makes you look like an idiot,” Bucky says gruffly. Steve hides his smile behind a slice of pepperoni pizza. After a surprisingly nice dinner where everyone was at least civil to each other Steve cleans up from dinner while Sam and Bucky move to the couch.

Steve looks up just in time to watch it all go wrong. Sam reaches for the remote, not paying attention, at the same time Bucky does. Bucky is slightly faster.

“No way, we are not watching another nature documentary.” Sam says.

“Of course we are. If you’re nice, I’ll even find one about birds for you,” Bucky says waving the remote just out of Sam’s reach. Sam tries to snatch the remote away. Bucky leans back and holds the remote above their heads with his metal arm, while Sam tries to pull his arm down, but is no match against super soldier strength and a metal arm. Steve walks behind the couch and plucks the remote out of Bucky’s hand.

“There’s a baseball game on tonight.”

That elicits a chorus of groans.

“Come on, it’s not even the Dodgers.”

“Do you watch anything other than baseball?”

“Nope,” Steve replies with a grin, settling himself between them and switching the channel. Truth be told, Steve doesn’t particularly care for either team playing and he would actually rather be reading one of the books from the small stash that Natasha had lent him, but if this was the only way to stop the fighting then so be it.

Halfway into the third inning Sam retires to his room muttering about wanting to get up early to check over his wings before the fight. Bucky makes it to the fifth inning before he too gives up and goes to bed. Steve waits until he’s sure both are asleep before switching off the TV. He glances at the clock. He can probably fit in at least one chapter before bed.


	2. Sputnik

It’s a cool spring day, the perfect day for a run, picnics, or taking down Hydra. Sam is going over his gear in the backseat of their small sedan, a normal part of his pre-flight routine. Next to him, Bucky is checking his guns. Steve keeps one eye on them and one eye on the road as he drives. The base is located on the edge of town in what used to be a factory for Hammer Industries. Steve makes a mental note to let Tony know later of whatever they find in there related to Hammer.

Steve pulls off into a mall parking lot a few miles away.

“Everybody out, we’re walking from here,” Steve says.

“Seems like a fun hike. You boys enjoy. I’ll meet you at the base.” Sam says. He spreads his wings and launches into the air with a dramatic flourish, which makes Steve grin. Sam has a natural grace in the air, akin to a professional swimmer in their element.

“Stay on the comms and do not engage until Buck and I are in position.”

“Aye Aye Captain.”

Steve snorts as Sam flies ahead, quickly disappearing from sight. Bucky and Steve walk up in silence. Bucky is always quiet in these pre-mission moments these days, a stark change from how he was. Before when Bucky kept up a stream-of-consciousness like dialogue with himself right up until the moment the battle began, Steve would often wonder in those days if Bucky knew how to be quiet. Now, Bucky is quiet all the time and Steve would give almost anything to hear Bucky chattering quietly to himself again. In a way this is why Steve doesn’t mind the bickering as much as he should, because it is one of the few times Bucky really gets talkative and starts to resemble the Brooklyn boy from Steve’s memories.

  They stay off the road, hiding in the overgrowth along the side of the street. Not that there is anyone to hide from, as not a single car passes them as they walk. Finally they turn off the road and onto what looks like a very long driveway up to the base.

“I think our intel was wrong. This looks like another bust,” Steve says. Bucky doesn’t say anything, but from the subtle way his shoulders relax Steve can tell he’s thinking the same thing.

“Sam, report.”

“There’s nothing. No guards on the outside, no cars that look like they haven’t been left behind months ago, no lights or sounds from inside. It’s a dead base.” Sam’s voice crackles over the comms.

Alright, then this won’t take long,” Steve says.

“So after this, lunch?” Sam asks hopefully.

“You aren’t even a super soldier Wilson, how are you always hungry?” Bucky asks.

“Shut it Barnes, being this awesome takes a lot out of me.”

“Quiet both of you until we’re sure this base is clear,” Steve commands. Silence falls over the comms. Steve listens closely, all he can hear are the sounds of their footsteps crunching up the drive and wind through the trees.  When they reach the base Bucky goes left and Steve goes right.

There’s a parking lot, with a few vans bearing the Hammer logo on the side parked in the back. Peering inside Steve can see a fine layer of dust on the dashboard. Rust is beginning to show on the grilling as well. Clearly the cars haven’t been used in a while. Coming closer to the building Steve ducks down behind a bush, and peaks over the top. Inside is dark and empty. Steve tests the window and finds it locked. For now, he moves on. Steve makes it to the back of the building and regroups with Bucky.

“Nothing,” Bucky says.

“Same, you got a way inside or are we going to have to break a window?” Steve asks.

“There’s a door, I can pick the lock.”

A few short minutes later Bucky and Steve are walking the halls. Sam remains outside as their lookout. The first few rooms are bare of anything useful. In the wastepaper basket there are the charred remains of paper.

“Looks like they burned everything and got out in a hurry,” Steve observes.

“There’s a few computers left behind,” Bucky reports.

“They’ve probably been wiped. We can send them to Stark though, and see if he wants to take a crack at them,” Steve says.

They continue down the hallways, clearing out the offices as they go. Past the offices the hallway opens up to a large room that used to house the factory machines. It’s been stripped bare leaving an empty gray room behind. Dark stains on the ground that look like they could be either oil or blood are all that remain.

“Hey look at this,” Bucky calls.

On the far side of the wall a torn map of the United States is tapped to the wall. The familiar red octopus of Hydra is stamped in the corner. Red X’s dot the country.

“What do you think? More bases?” Steve asks.

“Probably.”

Steve gently tugs it from the wall, careful not to rip it further. He rolls up neatly.

Suddenly the comms crackle to life. Sam’s voice echoes slightly.

“Cap, Barnes it looks like we’ve got company. Get out of there.”

“What is it Sam?” Steve asks.

“Black vans, at least half a dozen of them, coming up the driveway. I doubt they’re friendly.”

“Right. We’re on our way.” Steve says, “Bucky, grab those laptops and lets go.”

Bucky runs ahead. Steve repositions his shield and checks the window. The first of the vans has pulled up out front. Men dressed in black with bulletproof vests are out and looking up. Steve has no doubts at what, or rather who, they are looking at. The sounds of gunfire comes from outside and from his comm.

“Sam, talk to me.” Steve barks.

“I’m ok Cap.” Sam’s voice is calm and reassuring.

“I got everything, let’s go.” Bucky says appearing next to Steve, arms loaded with laptops.

“Good, let’s head out the back while Sam keeps them engaged out front,” Steve says.

They move silently down the hallway. With Bucky on his left and the sound of gunfire echoing from outside Steve can almost imagine it’s the 40s again, and they’re deep in a Hydra base behind enemy lines. Bucky shifts and Steve knows that he’s preparing in case he needs to ditch the computers and grab his gun.

“Shit!”

“Sam! Are you hit?” Steve forces any trace of panic from his voice.

“No. It’s Rumlow. Bastard’s here. I saw him go around the back.” Sam reports. Next to him, Steve feels Bucky come to a halt.

“Come on Buck. We got to go.”

Face blank, lost in a storm of memories that Steve cannot even begin to fathom, Bucky doesn’t move.

“Please Buck,” Steve says. He’s seen this happen before. Something, usually a word or a sound, will set him off. At first Steve had been afraid that it was more evidence of Hydra programming, but Sam explained that dissociating was a very common symptom of PTSD. It’s a risk to touch him when he’s like this. Sometimes it pulls him out of it, sometimes it sets off a violent reaction that leaves Steve nursing a bloody nose. Still, they don’t have time. Steve touches his arm gently. With a jolt, Bucky comes back.

“Sorry, let’s go,” he mutters. They turn a corner.  Someone is already there.

“Hey Cap.”

His face is horribly burned with red painful looking scars that travel down his neck and disappear under his shirt. Despite that Steve recognizes him immediately. He raises his shield defensively.

“Rumlow.”

Rumlow smiles and the scars on his face twist into an ugly shape. He’s got his gun out, and he’s good; Steve remembers enough missions to not underestimate him, but he isn’t beat-two super-soldiers-singlehandedly good. There is the sound of running footsteps. He won’t be alone for long. They need to move now. Steve steps forward. At the same time Bucky drops the laptops, and reaches for his gun. There’s nothing Rumlow can do to stop it. There’s no way he can outshoot Bucky, even on his best day. Still, Rumlow doesn’t even flinch.

“Sputnik.”

Like a puppet whose stings have been cut, Bucky drops to the floor. For a moment, Steve looks around for a hidden sniper, raising his shield protectively, in case the sniper tries to take a second shot.

“It’s just us Cap. I turned off your buddy.” Rumlow says, looking smug.

“How?”

“You didn’t think we put an off switch in there, in case the Winter Soldier ever went rogue?” Rumlow says, “don’t worry though. He’s not dead.”

Furious, Steve throws his shield. It comes so close to Rumlow’s head, but he ducks at the last second, rolling into an office. Steve catches his shield as it bounces back and with a glance at Bucky to confirm he’s still breathing takes off into the next room. Steve comes to a quick stop when he sees that Rumlow is no longer alone.

Steve doesn’t hesitate, throwing his shield at the closest Hydra agent. Rumlow has backed up out of the fight, allowing the other agents to throw themselves between him and Steve.

“You have no idea how long I have been waiting for this,” Rumlow gloats, “I’ve been following you for weeks, building up a small army to take you down.”

“And they haven’t managed to take me down yet,” Steve grunts, breaking the arm of the agent that has thrown himself on his back. The agent begins screaming in pain, and Steve tosses him over his shoulders into another attacker.

“They will,” Rumlow says with the cockiness that Steve had once scolded him for when they were still running missions together.

Sam’s voice sounds over the comms, “Steve, Barnes. I’m inside. Where are you?”

“Buck’s down. He’s in the hallway. Get him out Sam,” Steve says.

“What about you?” Sam’s voice is tight with concern.

“I’m ok. Get him out and come back for me.” Steve says. Sam goes silence, but Steve trusts him to get Bucky out.  He turns his attention back to the problem at hand. More agents have entered the room, drawn to the sounds of fighting. Steve can only hope they ignored Bucky’s body lying vulnerably on the floor, writing him off as not currently a threat.

Steve pushes forward, determined to punch the smug look off Rumlow’s face. He can almost imagine Rumlow’s nose breaking with a satisfying crunch. A knife from one of the agents lash out dangerously close to Steve’s face. Swinging his shield arm Steve knocks him to the floor before turning his attention to the next threat. A sharp pain in the back of his leg informs him of his blunder. From the floor the Hydra agent has embedded his knife deep into Steve’s thigh. Momentarily distracted, Steve doesn’t see the second knife until it’s too late. He twists, avoiding a knife to the chest, but his arm takes the brunt of the attack instead, and twisting did nothing to help his leg which buckles from the sudden movement. Sensing weakness, they attack with renewed vigor from all sides.

Someone rips the shield from his arm. Situation critical. Steve finds himself buried under waves of agents, Rumlow standing above him triumphantly. He leans down so he can look Steve in the eyes.

“Told you I would.”

He takes out his pistol and brings it down on the back of Steve’s head, and Steve knows no more.


	3. Missing

Barnes is down and Sam isn’t even sure how that is physically possible. As Sam runs through hallways too tight to fly down he imagines the possible gory injuries that await him. It’s a slow process, and every fight delays him and makes him worry that by the time he finds Barnes he’ll be too late. How much blood loss can a super soldier survive? Sam pauses to punch another agent and knock his knife from his hand. Sam picks it up. If there is one thing he has learned from Barnes it’s that you can never have too many knives on you.

When Sam finally finds Barnes unconscious on the floor his first thought is of relief at the lack of blood. Paramedic instincts kicking in Sam does a rundown of potential injuries starting with the head and going down. He checks for a concussion, broken neck, bruising along the chest, and for signs that someone interfered with his breathing. Sam frowns, as far as he can tell there are no injuries severe enough to render a normal human unconscious, much less someone like Barnes. Sam rules out poison as well because how the hell would they give it him in the middle of a firefight and Barnes is immune to most poisons anyway. As far as Sam can tell Barnes decided that now was a good time for a nap and promptly passed out.

“Dammit Barnes,” Sam swears. Steve needs him and he was too busy playing babysitter to Barnes to help out. Not that he doubts Steve’s skills, but from the background noise over the comms he could tell Steve was fighting more than his share of Hydra goons.

Sam leverages Barnes over his shoulders, careful of any potential injuries he might have missed and takes off back down the hall. Getting out is even slower than getting in was. He tries to engage as little as possible, Barnes’s weight slowing him down and making it harder for him to aim his gun. Fortunately, luck seems to be on his side for the moment and the steady tide of Hydra is dying down. In the distance he hears the squeal of car tires peeling away. Good, let them run; the cowards.

When he gets Barnes outside and far enough away from the fighting that he doesn’t fear getting attacked, Sam checks his first instinct to go racing back inside for his other super soldier and gives Barnes a more thorough exam. Like before he can find nothing to explain Barnes state of being. He taps his face gently, and then harder when he gets no response. Sam’s forced to conclude that there is nothing he can do for him at this moment. Barnes will either wake up on his own soon or Sam and Steve will make the call take him to a hospital. They try to avoid hospitals as much as they can. Both Barnes and Steve have a natural aversion to them, either because of their times as lab rats or because hospitals in the 30s were generally awful places to be. Sam’s not quite sure which. They’ve been lucky so far, in that every hit they’ve taken they’ve managed to shake off on their own. But if Barnes doesn’t wake up in an hour Sam is going to use his medic status to overrule any argument Steve might have and take him to the hospital to check for swelling of the brain.

Sam runs back inside.

“Talk to me Steve. I got Barnes out.”

Static greets him on the comms.

“Dammit Cap, don’t do this to me.”

Still nothing.

“I am so kicking your ass when I find you.” Sam mutters furiously. The first few rooms he searches turn up only unconscious agents that he fought earlier. He tries to follow the sounds of people fighting but everything is eerily quiet now. Sam steps over a body on the floor, trying to calm his rising sense of panic. Barnes is down, Steve is MIA, and he’s alone. This whole mission is turning into a disaster.  He retraces his steps to where he found Barnes. In the next room he finds the largest gathering of injured and unconscious Hydra agents yet, and worst of all, flung in a corner where he almost misses it, Sam finds Steve’s shield. Sam picks in up. Dark blood stains mar the white star. He can only pray that it isn’t Steve’s blood. Sam does a quick check of the other rooms, but from the moment he found the shield he knew Steve was gone.  

Back outside Sam checks on Barnes, who is still unconscious.

“Dammit Barnes, this is not what I need right now man,” Sam mutters. Still, he dutifully picks him up and flies. He’s going to drop him off at the nearest hospital and start searching for Steve. Sam isn’t expecting, however, for Barnes to snap awake while he’s in the air with him.

Barnes jerks awake clearly disoriented, and squirms in a uncoordinated attempt to break free of Sam’s grip.

“Barnes, stop it! It’s me.” Sam grunts and to his credit Barnes stills at the sound of Sam’s voice. Sam lands, just in case Barnes makes another ill-advised attempt at freedom.

“What the hell happened back there?” Sam asks.

Barnes ignores the question and looks around, his face blank in a way that it used to be when he had first come home.

“Where’s Steve?”

“Hydra, I think. I don’t know I wasn’t there. What happened?” Sam asks impatiently.

“Rumlow. He was there.”

Barnes’s face is still far too blank for Sam’s comfort.

“How did Rumlow manage to overpower the both of you?” Sam asks.

“He knew my shutdown code,” Barnes says quietly. Emotion begins to break across his face. Fear, pain, regret. The part of Sam that will forever be a counselor feels sincere sympathy for what Barnes is reliving and knows that he should tread cautiously, but the rest of Sam is screaming that Steve’s life is in danger.

“So he knocked you out with a word, which left Steve to deal with him and a room full of Hydra agents on his own?” Sam snaps. He’s not mad at Barnes. He knows it’s not his fault, but an ugly part of him whispers that if he had been there this wouldn’t have happened. Sam would have fought and Steve would be fine right now.

Barnes looks up furiously.

“I didn’t know he knew.”

“Well, what other words does he know? Can he turn you against us?” Sam asks, and he knows he could have phrased that better by the way Barnes’s face crumples with guilt, but it’s a valid question.

“No. That code was in the book, but I burned the book before I came…back. Nobody knows.” Barnes says harshly.

“Finally a piece of good news,” Sam retorts, “still doesn’t change the fact that Steve is still missing and Rumlow knows your off switch.”

The barely concealed panic in Barnes’s eyes almost makes Sam regret what he said. Sam’s not dumb, he has had plenty of clients who were prisoners of war, sometimes for years. Logically, he knows that Barnes is in a fucked up situation that is no way his fault, and it’s a damn miracle he manages to get out of bed in the morning. Knowing that however, does little to quell the feelings of rage boiling in the pit of his stomach. Steve would be here if Barnes wasn’t so messed up. Steve is probably off being tortured this very second and Sam’s stuck here with no leads and a useless super soldier that he can barely get along with on a good day.

As if sensing Sam’s anger, Barnes’s eyes narrow.

“Where were you then? Didn’t you hear Steve over the comms?” Barnes’s snaps, anger replacing his panic.

“Yeah, I was getting your ass out of there, on his orders.” Sam says.

“You should have ignored those orders,” Barnes says.

“Probably” Sam snaps, “but I didn’t want to deal with an angry mopey Steve Rogers later if something had happened to you.”

Barnes opens his mouth to respond then stops. Visibly collecting himself he sighs.

“You know what; I don’t have time for this. I’m going back to interrogate any agent left behind.”

“I’m coming with you.” Sam says immediately.

“No.”

“Steve’s my friend too,” Sam says, “besides, if you’re going to face Rumlow you need someone with you who doesn’t have trigger words.”

Barnes hesitates, visibly warring with himself.

“Fine.”

“It will be faster if we fly.” Sam says.

The flight is awkward, but mercifully short. They don’t talk, and Sam might as well be carrying a statue for all Barnes moves. Once at the base, they find their pick of Hydra agents to choose from. They bypass any that are unconscious, or look to be in too much pain to focus, as well as anyone who looks too young or stupid to be trusted with any important information.

“Here,” Barnes says, grabbing a man as he tries to stem the blood from a knife wound to the shoulder.

“Think he’ll know anything useful?” Sam asks.

“He will.”

The man looks between Barnes and Sam, and instead of looking fearful, a grin breaks out across his face.

“Asset, good to see you again.” He greets. Barnes tightens his hold on him just hard enough to draw out a flinch.

“How did you find us?” Sam asks.

The smile returns.

“Find you? We’ve been following you all for weeks.”

Barnes and Sam exchange worried looks. They hadn’t noticed. How had they not noticed? It wasn’t easy to get the drop on someone as cautious and paranoid as them. For weeks they had checked in under false names, travelled mostly by night, and rarely left the run down motel rooms they rented for only a few nights at a time.

“If you’ve been following us that long, why didn’t you strike sooner?” Barnes asks.

“Not enough men. After the fall people scattered like cowards. Rumlow has slowly been rebuilding ranks,” The man says with a gloating leer, “and it’s been working. Hydra has been reforming with him as our new leader.”

“Yeah, because that guy is the picture of mental stability and exactly who I would want to follow into battle,” Sam says, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t ask for sanity in my leadership, just competency,” He shrugs looking unconcerned. 

“Where did Rumlow take Steve?” Barnes snaps impatiently.

“Don’t know.”

Barnes shoves him against the wall, “yes you do!” He slams his gleaming fist next to his head and the man flinches.

“I don’t.” the man says with a wince, “The man has several safe houses and has been obsessed with Steve Rogers since he started gathering us back up. I assume he’s squirrelled himself away in some remote safe house so he and the Captain can have some private time together.”

“Tell us every safe house you know.” Barnes says.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I know 11 different ways to separate a man’s skin from the rest of them and I will give you an intimate demonstration if you don’t,” Barnes snarls.

“I thought you had turned over a new leaf. You’re one of the good guys now.” The man says cockily, but there is a fear in his eyes that has been steadily growing. Sam can see it; this man wants to live and he has no deep sense of loyalty to Rumlow.

“Killing you would probably knock a few sins off my tally.”

The man swallows. He’s knows what the Winter Soldier is capable of; he’s seen the videos. There’s no benefit in dying for Rumlow, God knows the man would never do the same.

“Get me a pen and some paper.”

Barnes sends Sam to get the paper and pen.  Ten minutes later the man hands back an extensive list. By his own admission those are all the safe houses he’s aware of, but there are probably several more he doesn’t know of. It’s a daunting list.

Sam skims in while Barnes secures their prisoner and makes an anonymous report to the police. He joins Sam in looking over the list.

“Split up?” he suggests.

“No.”

“No?” Barnes repeats and Sam can feel a fight brewing. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to release the tension he’s been holding. They don’t have time for fighting, Steve needs them.

“No. Rumlow knows at least some of your trigger words and we have no way of knowing who else knows them. I don’t want you walking into a safe house and basically handing the Winter Soldier back to them. We stick together.” Sam says. He braces himself for an argument, prepared to stick to his guns on this.

“Okay,” Barnes says after a moment, “let’s go.”


	4. Better Me than Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Torture

Steve’s hearing comes back first. The sounds of footsteps echo overhead. Then his sense of smell; a distracting old musty smell pervades the room. Finally, things begin to shift into focus and Steve blinks the fogginess out of his eyes. He looks around. He’s in a basement. Heavy chains have been drilled into the wall. Cold cuffs bite into his ankles and wrists. They aren’t as fancy as the ones Shield uses, but they do their jobs effectively. Steve tugs on them and feels no give on any of them. Disappointing, but not unexpected.

Steve wonders how long he’s been here. There are no windows to give him an estimate on what time it is. He’ll have to wait until someone comes down to check on him to get any information. Unsure of how long that will be Steve spends his time cataloging everything in the basement and how it can possibly be used for an escape attempt. The list is depressingly short, and nothing down there can help him with his most pressing problem of getting out of the cuffs. What’s worse is that his shoulders are beginning to ache from tension of being forced up.

An hour later someone comes down to check on Steve. Steve is almost happy to hear footsteps coming down the stairs. He was beginning to think he had been forgotten about, and there was no way he was getting out of this situation without more information. When he sees who it is, it’s enough to make him wish for the solitude again.

“Hey Cap,” Rumlow greets cheerfully. Steve doesn’t respond, not that Rumlow seems have been expecting one. He drags a folding chair over to Steve and takes a seat, admiring Steve like a piece of art.

“Let’s have a chat buddy,” Rumlow says leaning back in his chair. When Steve fails to respond a second time, a slight frown crosses Rumlows face. It disappears quickly, replaced by a smirk.

“I get it, you’re still a bit pissed at me for being Hydra. That’s fair, I get it,” Rumlow says holding up his hands in mock apology, “but really Cap, you’re going to have to get over it. You and I have things to talk about.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” Steve snaps.

“Of course you do. See, I’ve managed to track you and your sidekicks down, but I’m having a bit harder time finding that Black Widow bitch and Fury…and I know you’ve been in contact with them.” Rumlow says.

“What do you want with them?” Steve asks.

“I want to repay them for the role they played in completely fucking up my face,” Rumlow snaps, gesturing to his scarred face, “You, The Asset, your flying friend, Romanoff, Carter, and Fury. You all gotta pay.”

Steve tenses.  Rumlow stands up, kicking the chair to the side as he paces back and forth. All gloating cockiness is gone, replaced with a burning type of anger Steve hasn’t seen since the war. Rumlow slips a blade out and begins playing with it, skimming his thumb along the edge.

“I thought about just killing you, but the thought of them out there, living their lives while I look like a damn freak…” Rumlow says darkly, “where are Romanoff and Fury? I’ve already tracked Carter to the CIA. When I’m done with you and your buddies, she’s next.”

Steve stays silent. He could lie and say he doesn’t know, but why waste the breath when he knows Rumlow won’t believe him. Rumlow stops pacing and looks Steve in the eye.

“Where are they?”

“You might as well kill me, because you I’m not going to talk,” Steve says.

“I suppose I could,” Rumlow says thoughtfully, as if seriously considering it, “I wonder who would be more talkative, Barnes or your other friend, Sam Wilson is his name, right? He seems like the talkative sort, maybe he would tell me what I want to know. Then again Barnes can be just so obedient when you know the right words. Which one do you think Cap?”

Steve bites his tongue hard to keep from begging. It won’t help; in fact it is probably exactly what Rumlow wants to see. Still he can’t stop the blood from draining out of his face or his eyes from widening in barely concealed panic. He can’t imagine either Bucky or Sam here. Bucky, he knows for a fact, would kill himself before he allowed Hydra to take him again. Sam would fight, but Sam isn’t a super soldier, he gets hurt so much easier. He can die so much easier…

“Of course, they will both end up here eventually. We need our asset back,” Rumlow continues.

“He will never go back to you,” Steve says, seething with rage. Rumlow leans in real close, and says in a low voice, as if sharing a secret, “You think ‘Sputnik’ is the only trigger word I know?”

Steve lunges forward as much as he can, which is only a few unimpressive inches, and head-butts Rumlow with a satisfying thump. Rumlow jerks back with a wince of pain, smirk gone from his face, while Steve forces a smirk onto his own face.

Rumlow grabs him by the front of his shirt and slams him back into the wall.

“ _Your_ Bucky is going to be _our_ Asset again very soon, and just for fun Sam can be our second asset,” Rumlow growls, “Wouldn’t that be a great? A flying asset sure would come in handy now and again.”

This time Steve can’t stop the reflexive “No!” that slips out.

“You think you can stop me?” Rumlow asks, and then pauses.

Steve waits, vowing to remain silent no matter what Rumlow says next.

“Maybe you can. I’ll consider not going after either Barnes or Wilson, your choice, if you tell me where Romanoff and Fury are.” Rumlow says.

Despite not saying anything, Steve is confident that his glare adequately conveys his opinion of Rumlow’s proposal. He’s not giving up Nat’s and Fury’s location and he certainly is going to choose between Sam and Bucky. He doesn’t even think he can. The thought of either of them here feels like ice in his veins. The terror of that thought alone is enough to take the edge off the burning anger he’s feeling from just looking at Rumlow.

“I’d be smart and take it. I’m not going to make this offer again,” Rumlow says. Steve’s glare intensifies. Rumlow shrugs, looking unconcerned, “suit yourself.”

“If you’re going to torture me, you might as well start,” Steve says, “because you know me well enough to know that I don’t betray my friends.”

“So noble,” Rumlow says with an eye roll, “you think you’re better than me, you arrogant son of a bitch, but I’ll have you begging me to let you take that deal.”

The knife gleams in Rumlow’s hand as he holds it up to Steve’s throat. He pauses, contemplating where to start. He starts at the collar of Steve’s t-shirt. His uniform is long gone, stolen when he was unconscious. Rumlow drags the knife down, ripping the fabric cleanly and just barely leaving grazing the skin. It’s more ticklish than painful. Now with the blank canvas that is Steve’s chest before him Rumlow gets to work. He digs in deeply between the bones in Steve’s ribs. Steve fights to keep himself still and his breaths shallow. The last thing he needs is Rumlow accidentally puncturing a lung.

It’s painful, and what’s left of Steve’s shirt is rapidly turning red with blood. Rumlow is talking to him, but Steve tunes him out. A steady stream of _‘Better me than Bucky or Sam’_ runs through his head.

“Pay attention when I’m talking,” Rumlow snaps. He punches Steve hard in ribs, next to one of the deeper cuts. Steve hears a crack as one of his ribs break, and a fresh wave of blood pours from the wound. Pain makes his vision go gray for a few seconds and when he pulls himself back, Rumlow is looking at him closely.

“Where is Fury?” Rumlow asks.

“Go to hell,” Steve groans.

“Unless Fury is there, no. Where is Romanoff?” Rumlow asks. The blade has been getting higher as he works his way through Steve’s ribs.

Steve opens his mouth for a smart reply, when Rumlow nicks the cluster of nerves just below his collar bone. Steve lets out a sharp breath. Noticing the change in breathing, Rumlow hits the nerves again, with more precision.

Steve’s breath catches in his throat. _Better me than them_ he reminds himself forcefully. The shine of Rumlow’s knife has faded considerably, hidden under a layer sticky blood; his blood. Steve watches as the knife sinks into his body again. The pain is sharp and burning. Steve would like to say that he is prepared for this kind of torture, but the truth was he isn’t. A life time of being sickly got him used to only a certain type of pain. He could handle the clammy burning feeling that went along with fevers. He could also brush off migraines and aching lungs like a pro, but this type of pain is different. This isn’t the pain of an achy body that refused to be healthy; this was the pain of nerves being sliced in half and destroyed. The pain he felt becoming Captain America is the closest thing he can compare this feeling to. Inside the tube he had felt every nerve rip itself to shreds as each one rapidly grew, but that was at least a fast process. This is slow. Rumlow drags the knife across his flesh and pushes the knife in agonizingly slowly, giving each nerve ending time to fire out in pain before severing them. 

Pain is giving away to lightheadedness, and not in a good way. Rumlow’s lips are moving again. Seeing Steve’s face scrunch in concentration as he tries to focus, Rumlow repeats himself.

“Sorry Cap, can’t let you die yet. How about we let your super healing do its job and we’ll pick this up later.”  

Steve doesn’t bother to respond as he focuses on keeping his breathing even and shallow to not aggravate his broken rib or the many cuts on his chest.

“Do me a favor buddy?” Rumlow asks, and Steve looks at him suspiciously, “hold this for me.”

Rumlow pushed the blade into Steve’s shoulder and pats Steve’s cheek.

“Thanks Cap.”

Rumlow wipes his bloody hands on what little part of Steve’s shirt hadn’t yet been stained red and then strolls up stairs with the casual grace of someone who is having a very good day. At the top of the stairs he flicks off the overhead light and shuts the door behind him. Steve hears the click of the lock.

He is alone and in the dark with nothing to distract him from the pain. Every shift causes his shoulder with the blade embedded into it to scream in agony, but the blood loss and resulting dizziness is making it very hard not to sway. _Better me than them. Better me than them. Better me than them._ It’s a mantra, almost a prayer, that Steve whispers to himself as he fights not to pass out.


	5. Safe House

The first safe house on the list is an apartment in a rundown building in than less reputable part of town. There are civilians also living in overcrowded building, making it one of the less likely places they are keeping Steve. Still, it’s the closest safe house and Sam and Barnes both agree on being very thorough in their search.

The plan is simple; bust through the front and take them by surprise. The apartment is small; they doubt there will be many agents there if any at all. The presence of civilians complicates matters.

“For the last time, we are not pulling the fire alarm,” Barnes snaps. They are sitting in the car around the block going over the final details of the plan.

“We need to get the civilians out of the line of fire,” Sam argues.

“There aren’t going to be any civilians in the actual apartment.”

“But there could be civilians in the hall or the next apartment over. What if they get hit by a stray bullet?” Sam asks.

“Don’t miss when shooting, and we won’t have to worry about that.” Barnes says. Sam gives him an unamused look.

“If we pull the fire alarm, we’ll tip off Hydra that we’re here. That gives them time to prepare, or worse take a hostage.” Barnes says. Neither is willing to back down, and right now they don’t have Steve’s calming presence to mediate things before it goes too far. 

“Look I don’t want any more civilian deaths on my conscious, but I know how to run a hit like this,” Barnes says darkly, “The Winter Soldier was good at this type of thing.”

That shuts Sam up. For all he dislikes Barnes and questions his trustworthiness, giving him crap about the Winter Soldier has been fairly limited. Usually the Winter Soldier sits just out of sight, the proverbial elephant in the room. (Assuming of course that the elephant is an ex-hydra assassin.) The only time Barnes has ever referred to the Winter Soldier directly was to Steve, so bringing him up now is an argument ender.

“Fine, we do it your way, but if this goes bad…” Sam leaves the rest of the threat unspoken. He’s trusting Barnes for the first time without Steve present, and if things go wrong, if a civilian is hurt or worse, it’s going to be a long time before Barnes earns that trust back. Barnes nods in understanding.

“I’ll take the window, you go in up the stairs,” Sam says shortly. They split up.

“I’m in position.” Barnes reports over the comms.

“Me too,” Sam says.

Barnes kicks down the door. At the same moment Sam comes bursting through the window.  One Hydra agent drops before he even processes that he’s under attack. The other doesn’t even bother going for his gun as he attempts to run past Barnes and down the hall. Barnes grabs him by the back of the collar and slams his head in to the wall, twice for good measure, before letting him drop to the ground unconscious.

“Not bad,” Sam says reluctantly.

“Told you. I know what I’m doing,” Barnes says.

Sam wants to argue more, but his attention is immediately caught by the far wall. Hundreds of newspaper clippings and print outs of news stories are taped to the wall. Steve’s smiling face looks out at him from dozens of angles. Stories from the battle of New York and from when it was leaked that he was found in the ice dot the walls. Sam even counts well over a dozen news pieces of events that took place during the War. Clearly Rumlow has an unhealthy obsession. But it isn’t just Steve. He sees a few things about himself up there as well. There’s a picture and an article his hometown ran when he first joined the army. He also sees pictures of Natasha from the battle of New York. Then there are news articles that don’t look like they belong. They are all assassinations from decades ago, with little to tie them together and no connection to Steve.

“Wonder why these are up,” Sam says, pointing them out to Barnes. Barnes reads a few and goes pale. He turns away from the wall and slams his fist onto a table, denting it in an uncharacteristic display of emotions.

“Those are some of my—The Winter Soldier’s—missions,” Barnes says quietly. Sam reads those news stories more closely. All of them professional hits, none of them solved. Sam has to hand it to him, the Winter Soldier might have been a bastard, but he was good at what he did. Barnes still hasn’t turned to face the wall again, not that Sam can blame him. Who would want to look at a wall filled with your sins from the last 70 years?

 “Well, it’s not like we didn’t already know that Rumlow was crazy,” Sam jokes to break the silence, “though it would have been nice if he directed his crazy somewhere else, like collecting stamps or something.”

That elicits a tiny smile from Barnes.

“I’m pretty sure Himmler had a stamp collection. Didn’t make him any saner.” It’s a weak joke, but it helps to break the lingering tension in the room, “come on, let’s see if we can find anything actually useful.”

Sam goes through the living room, while Barnes investigates the bedroom. Sam is methodical in his search. Barnes is…methodical in his own way. When Sam glances in the bedroom it looks like a tornado hit the room. Yet Barnes emerges from the mess triumphant.

“Laptop,” he says proudly.

Sam finds nothing useful, only more newspaper clippings.

“Alright let’s go back to the hotel and see if anything on the laptop can help us pinpoint Steve’s location.” Sam says.

Back at the hotel Sam opens it while Barnes hovers over his shoulder. While both Steve’s and Barnes’s understanding of computers is impressive given their circumstances, Sam has found himself resident tech expert among them.

Thankfully the laptop doesn’t seem overly secure. The first thing Sam and Barnes stumble upon is a file of pictures of them; pictures taken of them entering middle of nowhere motels, and pictures taken late at night of them sneaking out. Pictures of them at bars in baseball caps pulled low over their faces. There are dozens of pictures all taken without their knowledge, since almost the beginning of their Hydra finding road trip. The pictures make the hairs on the back of Sam’s neck prickle. All those nights they thought they were being so clever, all those nights they thought they were _safe…_ It had been nothing more than an illusion and none of them had managed to catch on. When this was over, the three of them were sitting down and having a long talk about safety precautions. Sam looks at Barnes whose brows are tightly knitted as his eyes scan each picture.

“This doesn’t help us find Steve, what else is in there?” Barnes asks gruffly.

The next thing Sam pulls up is a list of names. Little check marks are next to over half of them, and some of the names are written in red. Sam is about to exit the page, this doesn’t help them find Steve and they don’t need another mystery, when Barnes stops him.

“Wait. I recognize these names,” his eyes dart over the list, “they’re Hydra. He’s making contact with them. He’s trying to rebuild Hydra.”

A Hydra under the leadership of Rumlow. Sam shivers at the thought. He sends the list to Sharon, with a quick email, trusting her to handle it. He doesn’t mention Steve’s abduction, no need to worry her, and Barnes doesn’t say anything about the absence of that information in the email, so Sam assumes he agrees. The rest of the laptop is useless, giving them nothing on the whereabouts of Steve or intel on Hydra. The afternoon wasted Sam looks outside at the darkening sky.

“I don’t think we have time to bust another safe house today,” Sam says reluctantly.

“I’ve run night missions before,” Barnes says.

“Yeah, with preparation and a day to rest. We can’t go in half-cocked. If we get taken out then there’s nobody left to save Steve,” Sam says.

“If it was one of us, Steve wouldn’t rest until he found us,” Barnes says, unwilling to give up.

“Just because he’s reckless doesn’t mean we have to be,” Sam says, “besides, I’m not suggesting giving up on him. I’m saying we need to do this the right way, so we actually find him instead of just getting ourselves killed.”

“Whatever,” Barnes mutters, “I need some air.”

He gets up and walks out, slamming the door behind him like a petulant teenager. The thought to go after him drifts through Sam’s head, but Sam makes no move towards the door. Barnes isn’t an idiot. He’s not going to go in without backup. Instead Sam moves himself to the mini-fridge for some leftover pizza.

When Barnes comes back an hour later, Sam has polished off the last of the pizza and is watching the news in the vague hope that something useful will show up. Wordlessly Barnes slips into the chair that’s angled do he can see the television and the door. The newsman’s voice is grating, and they’re doing a story on a local pet adoption, which normally Sam would appreciate, but tonight just frustrates him by the way things seem to be moving on as normal, as if Steve isn’t missing. Sam flips the TV off. The silence is staggering.

Barnes breaks the silence first.

“I checked the area around the motel. I couldn’t see anyone.”

Sam nods. It is a little reassuring, but those pictures are still too fresh on Sam’s mind for him to feel anything but on edge.

“What do you think is happening to him?” Barnes asks.

“No. We are not going down that route,” Sam says firmly, “We know he’s probably being tortured. We don’t need to tear ourselves to pieces wondering exactly how they’re doing it.”

They slip back into silence. Barnes looks like someone just kicked his dog, and while Sam stands by what he said the barest hint of guilt for his abruptness trickles in. Since coming back, Barnes hadn’t had Steve out of his sight for more than a few hours. Sam knows Barnes still has nightmares and Steve stays up with him. More often than not Sam will wake up in the morning to find Barnes and Steve sitting on the couch together asleep, with some talk show playing silently in the background. Steve is the only one Barnes truly trusts, not even Sam really makes the list. They were only held together now by their mutual desire to get Steve back. The silence stretches on.

“Tell me something about Steve,” Sam says. He knows Barnes has gotten a lot of his memories back. Steve has been helping him remember. It’s a private ritual the two of them do every evening. Steve will try to prompt a specific memory by asking questions and Barnes will try to remember. Sometimes he remembers the right memory, sometimes he remembers nothing, and sometimes Steve’s questions would trigger a host of memories.

Barnes jerks in surprise. He blinks at Sam, and Sam is positive that he just crossed some line. Barnes isn’t going to answer, and he’ll be lucky if Barnes doesn’t punch him. Barnes looks down at his lap. Maybe Sam can just sneak away off to bed.

“Did Steve ever tell you how we met?” Barnes’s question surprises Sam.

“Um, no… Plenty of stories about you pulling him out of fights though. I just assumed that’s where you met.” Sam says.  That gets a rare smile out of Barnes.

“No, I met him in 3rd grade, before Steve discovered his righteous mission to fight bullies everywhere.”

Sam snorts and watches as Barnes’s face softens at the memories. It’s like looking at an old picture, one’s that been weathered and faded over the years. But for the first time Sam looks at Barnes and can see the shadow of Bucky.

“So how did you meet?” Sam asks, not wanting the silence to kill the bonding moment him and Barnes are sharing.

“I met Steve because Steve is a punk who only knows how to make friends by being an ass to them first and seeing how they respond.” Bucky says, “Ma baked cookies. She was always baking something…usually ended up in my lunchbox too. Steve, his ma never had time to cook… He stole my cookies out of my lunchbox for a straight week before I finally caught him, and when I did catch him red handed holding my cookies, you know what he did? He offered to share them with me.”

Bucky shakes his head fondly at the memory as Sam chuckles.

 “I was so stunned by the brazenness of kid that looked like he still belonged in 1st grade offering me my own cookies that I actually shared them with him.”

“That sounds like him,” Sam says.

“I remembered that on my own,” Barnes says with a touch of pride in his voice.

“Good job. I bet Steve was happy.”

“I didn’t get a chance to tell him. I only remembered last night.” What was left of Barnes smile slips off his face. Suddenly looking very self-conscious, Barnes stands up.

“I’m turning in.”

Sam watches Barnes….no, Sam watches Bucky, head to bed. Maybe Bucky wasn’t as much of a lost cause as he feared.


	6. Attack

Steve really hates the sound of Rumlow’s voice. He hates the smug tone that grates on his nerves almost as badly as he hates the knife that Rumlow is expertly skimming along the top of his skin. Every once in a while Rumlow allows the blade to dip, causing small shallow cuts. The phrase ‘Death by a thousand paper cuts’ is beginning to make a lot of sense to Steve. Deep breaths, Steve reminds himself. Slow deep breaths. He doesn’t give Rumlow the satisfaction of flinching as another cut marks his bare skin.

As he cuts, he Rumlow talks. At first it’s the insane ramblings of a man who has watched his life’s work crumble before him and is desperate for revenge. That is easy to tune out. Steve has no interest in hearing about where Rumlow first heard the phrase “discipline through pain.” However, when he sees Steve’s attention beginning to drift Rumlow quickly shifts gears.

“Your pal Bucky boy was great at this,” Rumlow says, slicing into Steve’s shoulder. Muscle splits as Steve jerks in his chains. That was his shield throwing arm. It is going to be a bitch waiting for that to heal.

“Always came in so stone faced and got straight to work,” Rumlow continues, “no matter how much they begged or cried his expression never wavered.”

Steve can’t pretend that those words don’t hurt, because they do. Bucky rarely speaks about his time as the Winter Soldier. Steve isn’t even sure how much he remembers. One of the few things Bucky has mentioned is the repeated mind wipes that have ripped his memory to shreds.

“Did you know?” Steve asks, “Who he really was?”

Steve doesn’t mean to ask it, but doesn’t regret it. It’s a question that’s been prickling in the back of his mind since SHIELD fell and he realized Rumlow’s betrayal. All those missions they ran together, all those post-mission drinks and pizza with guys…They were friends. Steve had talked about Bucky several times. All those times Rumlow sat there nodding sympathetically, did he know that Bucky was alive and experiencing a fate worse than death?

Rumlow shrugged, “Nah, there were rumors as to who he was, but that seemed too ironic to actually be true. I mean what are the odds; Caps best friend becomes Hydra’s bitch?”

Steve tightens his jaw, determined not to react and give Rumlow the emotional display he was hoping for.

_SLAP_

Steve’s head jerks to the side. The slap is more unexpected than painful and Steve blinks up at Rumlow’s grinning face.

“You may play the stoic hero Cap, but I know you too well. This is eating you up inside. You let your best friend get tortured and twisted for 70 damn years and all the hugs and inspirational pep talks is never going to fully erase the damage we did to him.” 

Steve doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have anything to say to that because as sick as it makes him, he knows Rumlow is right. They both know it. Rumlow’s smug grin turns into leer of mock sympathy.

“Bet the poor guy still has nightmares about what he’s done.” Rumlow pauses as if he expects Steve to actually confirm it. The silence stretches on, and Rumlow continues, “Don’t worry Cap; once he’s back where he belongs we’ll make sure he forgets all those nasty memories.”

He ruffles Steve’s hair, in an almost friendly way and laughs when Steve pulls back in disgust.

~*~*~*~

The hunt for Steve is not going well. Worry is causing tempers to fray and the tentative bond they had formed last night is quickly unraveling.

“I told you it was a waste of time to come here,” Bucky snaps. It’s Bucky now, not Barnes. If nothing else, that will have changed at least.

“Shut up. It’s not like you had any better ideas.”

It’s been a long day of dead ends and wasted time. They are no closer to finding Steve now than they were when they started.

“We should head back to the hotel and go over the laptop again.” Bucky says.

“Why? We know there’s nothing on it,” Sam says.

“There might be,” Bucky insists stubbornly.

“Oh, so you’re a computer expert now?” Sam sneers. He’s tired, he’s hungry, and the ball of anxiety in his chest that appeared when Steve disappeared has grown exponentially. He is in no mood to read through Hydra notes that he’s already read through twice, as if this time they will tell them something new.

“You still might have missed something,” Bucky says. He’s desperately clinging to the only lead they have.

“If you want to waste time playing with the computer fine. I’m going back to the motel, grabbing food, then planning on which safe house to bust next.”

“That’s stupid. There are dozens of safe houses. It will take ages to find Steve that way,” anger creeping into Bucky’s voice, “do you even care about finding Steve?”

Sam stops in his tracks, fists clenched. He reminds himself that punching a super soldier is extremely bad for his health.

“Don’t you ever say that again,” Sam says in a low dangerous voice. Bucky hardly looks intimidated, but he lets the fight die. The car ride back to the motel is tense and silent. Both are very aware that any attempt at conversation will turn into a screaming match.

As they walk up to the door of their room at the run down motel they’ve been staying at Bucky’s arm darts out, grabbing Sam’s wrist. Sam opens his mouth to make a smart remark, but the look on Bucky’s face stops him. It’s a look of intense concentration, the type of look he only gets during the missions. He’s also not even looking at Sam. Instead all his focus is on the doorknob.

“Scuff marks,” Bucky whispers so softly Sam almost doesn’t hear him, “someone picked the lock.”

“Plan?” Sam asks, equally as quiet. A gun is pressed into Sam’s hand.

“Cover me” is the only warning Sam gets before Bucky is flinging the door open and charging inside.

The first agent goes down before the others even register Bucky barreling in. Bucky flips him over the couch taking down another agent in the process. Sam runs in as Bucky is disarming the third agent. Sam pauses briefly to take in the grace and raw power of the Bucky in action. He moves with all the force and skill of the Winter Soldier, but now he has a certain looseness to him that the Winter Soldier never had. It almost looks like he could be dancing. So distracted, Sam misses the agent leveling a gun at the back of his head.

“Duck!”

Bucky practically leaps over the agent he’s fighting to get to Sam. He grabs the front of Sam’s shirt and pulls. _Ping! Ping!_ The bullets bounce harmlessly off his silver arm.

“Stay focused flyboy,” Bucky says jumping back into the fray. Sam scoffs at the name and follows him. Over the months the two of them have worked together in several fights to take down Hydra. However, for both of them their trust lay in Steve, not each other. For the first time they are relying on each other without the safety net of Steve. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once. Sam has to say, they are doing pretty well together; perhaps not a perfectly well-oiled machine, but a functioning one at least. Unfortunately, that doesn’t last long.

“желание”

Bucky freezes, eyes wide.

“ржaвый”

Bucky slaps his hands over his ears, “No! No! No!” A smile stretches across the agent’s face as he draws closer, unafraid of the super soldier in front of him. A distant part of Bucky is screaming for him to run, but it’s as if he’s paralyzed, unable to move or fight or even think rationally once he begins to hear those words. He’s shaking as he drops to his knees.

“Семнадцать”

Bucky hears the words, but more than that he can see the way his lips move to form the words. He can feel the way the word nestles inside his brain, shutting down everything that makes him Bucky. Something stirs inside him. The Winter Soldier is waking up.

_Bang_

The gun is unnaturally loud to Bucky’s ears and he jerks as if he were the one shot. The Hydra agent gurgles before dropping to the floor. Bucky uncovers his ears slowly, unsure if it’s completely safe to do so. He looks up at the aftermath of the battle. Sam’s gun is now trained on the last agent standing.

“Put your hands behind your head and lay on the ground,” Sam barks and the man hastily complies.

"You ok to take care of the rest while I secure this one?” Sam asks, his eyes never leaving the agent. Bucky looks around. The other agents are all dead or unconscious. He can handle that. He nods. Both make short work of their duties.

“I’ll drop another line to Sharon to let her know about this,” Sam says and Bucky just nods again not trusting himself to speak yet. Sam steps out to make the call, returning a few minutes later. He surveys the scene. Blood stains the floor, mixing with pieces of a shattered lamp. It could have been much worse.

“What the hell kind of plan was that?” Sam asks. Bucky looks up sharply, but Sam is grinning, adrenaline and relief at making it out uninjured making him almost loopy with happiness. Bucky relaxed. He’s familiar with the post-mission high. He has vague memories of sitting around the campfire with the Howling Commandoes basking in the feeling.

“A damn good one,” Bucky says going through the agents pockets. He confiscates all the weapons he finds on him.

“It wasn’t even a real plan. A plan needs more than two words.” Sam says, his tone more teasing than annoyed.

“Be lucky you got that. Steve didn’t always even give me that much. One time the only warning about a plan I got was a wink,” Bucky says.

“Liar, Steve always has a plan. He is quite literally The Man with a Plan. Haven’t you heard his theme song?” Sam asks.

“Pure propaganda,” Bucky scoffs, “and most of his plans were stupid.”

“The history books disagree,” Sam says.

“That’s because history books aren’t allowed to call a war hero a dumbass,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes, “when I first started to remember some of the missions we ran I was sure they were false memories. I had to confirm that they were true with Steve, because I couldn’t believe how dumb some of them were.”

“Really, because Steve has mentioned some of his old missions and they don’t sound dumb when he tells the stories.”

“That’s because Steve leaves out the embarrassing bits.” A mischievous grin appears on Bucky’s face, “don’t tell me you don’t have any embarrassing stories of Steve.”

“I might,” Sam shrugs, his grin matching Bucky’s.

“You know, Steve really wants us to get along better and I can’t think of a better way to do that than by trading these very important anecdotes,” Bucky says seriously, his eyes dancing with humor.

“I very much agree,” Sam says.

Task complete and with Sharon confirmed on her way with a trusted team of CIA agents, there is nothing for Sam and Bucky to do but move on to a safer location and plan their next move.  The next motel they choose is only better than the last one, by the lack of Hydra agents in the room. Adrenaline high long gone, both men collapse into their beds, falling asleep quickly. Tomorrow there will be more plans to make and leads to follow, but for now, they sleep.


	7. A Walk in the Park

The next morning Sam awakens to the smell of burning eggs. In the early days of Bucky’s return this would have caused Sam some alarm. Slightly paranoid thoughts of the Winter Soldier killing them by poison was never far from his mind, especially when Sam once made the mistake of actually trying the plate of food Bucky had put in front of him. Steve had to step him and assure him that it wasn’t a convoluted murder plot of death by food poisoning; Bucky was just really terrible at cooking. Being a boy in the 30’s with multiple sisters meant there was little reason for him to help his ma with cooking or spend time in the kitchen, during the war they had all survived on heated up K-rations, no cooking required, and apparently Hydra didn’t think cooking was an essential skill for their pet super soldier.

“Breakfast,” Bucky says from the kitchenette as he dumps a load of foamy scrambled eggs on two plates. Sam drags himself out of bed and, ignoring the eggs completely, grabs a bowl and the cereal.

“How can you eat that? It’s nothing but sugar?” Bucky asks.

“Exactly, it’s delicious,” Sam responds.

“Eggs are a good source of protein.”

“Yeah I’m sure I’ll need the extra protein when I’m puking my guts up.”

“Steve eats my cooking,” Bucky huffs.

“Steve will literally eat anything you put in front of him,” Sam says, “I saw him take a bite out of a fake apple once.”

Bucky snorts as he begins shoveling the abomination passing as scrambled eggs into his mouth with far too much enthusiasm. He eats Sam’s helping too, which was probably the only real reason he made it.

“So I’ve been thinking about last night,” Bucky says. Sam immediately tenses, his memory immediately going back to Bucky’s terrified face and a string of Russian words.

“And?” Sam asks neutrally.

“I’ve been kicking around a plan all morning,” Bucky says causally, but Sam can see the taunt lines in his shoulders. Sam has a feeling that he better like this plan, because Bucky is going to try to do it with or without him. He also has a feeling that he is not going to like this plan. Sam remains silent and lets Bucky continue.

“Hydra’s attack last night wasn’t their best effort. They got sloppy because they knew Steve wasn’t around and they thought I would go down easy like last time, but they are going to try again.” Bucky says. Sam nods, because everything he said is true, but Sam isn’t really seeing the plan.

“So next time we let them capture me and lead us straight to Steve,” Bucky says. Sam blinks at him because that is a terrible plan for several reasons and he can list practically all of them. Bucky looks expectantly at him.

“No. That’s dumb,” Sam says, “what if they trigger the Winter Soldier? What if they take you to a different location?”

“If they take me to a different location than you can bust me out and we can try again, but I doubt they will. Rumlow will want to rub it in Steve’s face that he has me,” Bucky says confidentially.

“And if they try to bring the Winter Soldier out to play?” Sam asks.

“Ear plugs?” Bucky suggests, less confident.  

“That’s the best you can do?”

“Yes. I can read lips a little, enough to get the gist of things. I doubt they will talk that much to me,” Bucky says, “and if I read their lips saying the trigger words I can fake it.”

 “This is still a really bad idea,” Sam says.

“I’m doing it. I would like you to have my back on it, but even if you don’t I’m still going to do it,” Bucky says. He sticks out his jaw stubbornly and Sam wonders if it’s a habit he learned from Steve, or Steve learned from him.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? You’re handing yourself back over to Hydra,” Sam snaps.

“Yeah actually I do,” and his voice is deadly quiet, “but I’m not letting them do to Steve what they did to me. I’m getting him out. Are you in?”

One intense staring battle later, Sam is officially ‘in’ on the plan. He’s half convinced they’re all going to die, but at least they’ll die together.

Once the plan has been decided there is nothing to do but wait to be attacked. They do all they can to provoke one, without trying to be too obvious; walking around in the day without disguises, driving to obscure parts of town where there will be no witnesses, and generally giving the air that they are completely unaware of their surroundings. Three days later they haven’t even gotten a nibble.

“This is a waste of time,” Sam complains, “I think we actually beat them too badly last time. They’re afraid to try again.”

“No, they’ll attack again,” Bucky says quietly, “they always do.”

Its dusk and Bucky and Sam are standing in a park a few miles away from yet another abandoned former safe house. Neither are wearing their customary hat and sunglass combo disguises. Bucky even has his hand ungloved. He lets the dying light play along the hand for a few moments before shoving the hand back into his pocket. Sam had suggested that it might draw out some of the more ambitious agents. Bucky thinks Sam is just trying to subtly help him get used to not hiding it. Steve was trying to do that before he left. He was always insisting that the arm was nothing to be ashamed of. Bucky disagrees. The arm is Hydra technology. He’d remove it, if doing so wasn’t such a hindrance to his fighting.

“Then why are they waiting?” Sam asks.

Bucky looks out over the peaceful scene of the park. Park benches and picnic tables dot the grassy hills. It’s the kind of place where normal people take their kids on summer afternoons. The type of place he rarely visits. He looks back at Sam who is expecting an answer. Sam is playing with his knife, expertly flicking it open and closed. Sam, who could more than hold his own on their little team that consisted of mostly super soldiers. Sam, who continued to defy expectations of just how skilled a fighter he actually is. When Bucky first met Sam he underestimated his fighting skills. He knows Hydra probably made the mistake too, at first. Hydra doesn't make the same mistake twice.

"They’re waiting for you to leave,” Bucky realizes, “you stopped them from getting me last time, they won’t try again until I’m alone.”

“Oh so now the plan is to let you fight Hydra alone? What, it wasn’t dumb enough before?” Sam says quietly, aware that they could be currently under surveillance.

“Please?” Bucky says, “Just leave and circle back. You can watch from a distance.”

“All your plans are stupid,” Sam says quietly, and then stands up and says in a louder voice, “I’m heading back. Don’t stay out too late.”

“I won’t,” Bucky says. Bucky flips the hood of hoody up. Pretending to play with the cord he sneaks the ear plugs in. Sam hadn’t been able to come up with a better idea either.

For a few moments he just stands there. He furrows his eyebrows and clenches his jaw, looking like someone deep in thought. Head bent forward he takes off on a slow aimless walk, apparently oblivious to the world around him. He does a complete loop around the park without getting a bite. With a sigh he throws himself on a park bench. Curling over on himself with a five o’clock shadow Bucky is aware of just how homeless he looks at the moment. Thankfully there are no park goers around to judge him.

Out of the corner of his eye he senses movement. His body is screaming at him to tense up, to prepare for a fight, but he keeps his body loose. He wants to be taken by ‘surprise.’ Moments later a gun is being shoved in his face. It’s far too close and Bucky knows of several ways he could snap the man’s arm and take the gun. He does none of them, raising his eyes to his attacker Bucky schools his face into what he hopes is a look of surprise.  He must have pulled it off because the agent doesn’t even question why Bucky isn’t resisting. He feels another gun pressed against the back of his head. Still he remains pliable. Bucky twists his head to get both of them in his sightline. One is screaming something at him. It’s not the trigger words.

_Put…hands up!_

Right. Bucky can do that. He raises his arms like there isn’t a knife hidden in his sleeve. The agent who first shoved the gun in his face pats him down. The man finds less than half the weapons Bucky currently has on him. Amateur. Once satisfied with that the man taps Bucky’s chin with the gun, forcing his face up so their eyes meet. Here they come.

He flinches at the first word though the ear plugs do their job admirably. His mind remains clear as the man continues with the trigger words. Bucky remains tense, just waiting for the ear plugs to fail or for something to go wrong. Nothing does though and the man finishes speaking.

On cue Bucky says what he knows the man is waiting for. “Ready to comply.”

“Come,” The man barks, then without even checking to see if Bucky will obey he begins walking. Bucky stands up. There is still a gun pressed into his back, but he knows he could disarm both of them. Disarm them both and snap their necks. He doesn’t though. They are his one chance to get to Steve. He follows obediently, hoping desperately that Sam is following from above.

The drive is silent. Although his face is neutral, Bucky’s mind is racing. It’s been a long time since he’s felt panic, but now as he willingly walks back into Hydra’s clutches, he feels it again.  Eyes straight ahead, Bucky longs to look out the window at the sky to try and catch a glimpse of Sam flying above them. He doesn’t though, reminding himself that it could put the whole operation at risk. Besides, Sam is too smart to let himself be seen. To calm himself Bucky catalogues all the weapons the man missed on his pat down. There’s a knife in his sleeve, a small pistol in his inside jacket pocket, and another knife sewn inside the lining of the coat. Their slight weight is comforting and grounds him.

The car stops in front of a very nice suburban house. It sits on the main road. The noise from the cars would make a nice cover, Bucky thinks. It’s white with blue shutters and from his late night television watching Bucky can tell that this house has “curb appeal.” It’s so quaint nobody would suspect it of being owned by Hydra. As they lead him up the front steps Bucky can only hope that Steve will be waiting for him on the other side of the door.


	8. Fight

It’s been hours since Rumlow left, not that Steve is complaining. He needs the time to heal as much as he can, although without a proper meal in days that’s getting harder and harder to do. His wounds itch as skin begins to grow, and it’s a special type of torture not to be out able to scratch at them.

The ceiling creaks as people walk on the floor above. There has been a lot of walking today, a lot of people coming and going. Steve can only assume that that is a bad sign. Frustrated, he kicks at the wall, accomplishing nothing but aggravating his injuries. A sense of helplessness has descended over him, as he repeatedly fails to make any progress in freeing himself.

Steve is still pulling uselessly at the chains when the door opens. He knows by the gait that the first person coming down the stairs is Rumlow, but for the first time he is not alone.

“No!” Steve shouts when he sees who is walking behind him. His face a blank mask, Bucky Barnes follows Rumlow down the stairs, his eyes not even drifting to Steve. Behind him is another man with a gun pointed at his back. Steve holds his breath as he waits for Sam to be led in next. When that doesn’t happen, Steve breaths a tiny sigh of relief, and hopes that means it’s because Sam managed to escape.

The man positions Bucky in front of Steve before forcing Bucky to his knees. Bucky bows his head in defeat, his hair hanging like a curtain over his face. After looking him over as best he can from his position for injuries and finding none, Steve pulls his eyes away from Bucky. Rumlow is looking at him with a smug look of satisfaction playing across his lips.

“We would have liked to bring both of them back to you Cap, but Wilson didn’t make it,” Rumlow shrugs, “I guess that’s what happens when you try to run around with super soldiers.”

Steve shakes his head as if he can change the truth, just by denying it. Not Sam, please. It hurts, and the pain is reminiscent of that day on the train in the Alps. Rumlow is right, Sam doesn’t have any miracle serum to help him survive.

“Shot him right out of the sky.” Rumlow says, and Steve makes a soft noise of anguish. Sam is gone and from the looks of it Bucky is back in the grips of the Winter Soldier and there is nothing Steve can do to help either of them.

"So maybe now you’re ready to start talking,” Rumlow says. Steve’s face hardens. He wasn’t going to talk before, and he’s definitely not going to talk now after what they did to Sam and Bucky.

“Go to hell.” Steve says darkly.

The knife in Rumlow’s hand is familiar. It’s been the one he’s ben favoring the past few days. He holds it now to Bucky’s throat.

"You sure you want to get mouthy with me now Cap?”

Steve swallows the angry rant he is dying to give and fixes Rumlow with a stern glare. The knife dips into skin. Bucky doesn’t flinch as a thin red line dribbles down.

“Oops,” Rumlow says unapologetically. Bucky is still staring blankly at the floor, oblivious to the blood and the knife that has returned to its position of just skimming along his neck.

“I can go deeper Cap. I can make him scream,” Rumlow warns, “or you could just tell me where Romanoff and Fury are.”

Steve ignores him and tries to catch Bucky’s eye. He wants to apologize; for dragging Bucky back into this, for not being able to keep him out of Hydra’s hands, and for the torture they are both about to go through. He fails to catch his eye, so instead Steve looks back up at Rumlow.

“We aren’t telling you anything.”

Rumlow nods like he was expecting that answer, “fair enough Cap. I was hoping it would go down this way to be honest.”

He grabs a fistful of Bucky’s hair and drags his face up, forcing Bucky to finally meet Steve’s eyes. The knife tip dances along his throat. Steve braces himself, as if he was the one about to feel the cut of the blade. He selfishly hopes Bucky doesn’t scream. He doesn’t think he can handle it if he does. Rumlow is grinning and Bucky is still disturbingly blank. Steve stares at him. He can’t stop the torture that’s coming, he can’t break Bucky out of whatever hold they have over him, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least try to provide whatever comfort he can for him. Bucky’s eyes focus, meeting Steve’s. Suddenly there’s a smile on his lips. Bucky winks. Steve is so shocked he doesn’t even think to hide his surprise. Fortunately it doesn’t matter, because before Rumlow can notice it, Bucky is on his feet.

Bucky spins, sweeping the feet out from the guard behind him and throwing himself into the fray with gusto. Steve feels his jaw drop as he watches Bucky gracefully disarm another guard. His face is a mask of intense concentration, but his eyes still harbor a fire in them that belongs only to Bucky and never the Winter Soldier. Guards are yelling now, a mixture of Russian and English. There’s the sound of running footsteps and the door opens. More guards spill in, weapons drawn. 

Rumlow gives a shout of rage. Russian flies from his lips and Steve prepares to watch Bucky succumb, but amazingly Bucky seems unaffected. He advances on Rumlow. Realizing that the trigger words are failing Rumlow’s courage fails him as well and he backs up. Bucky closes in, a feral smirk on his face. Summoning his courage, Rumlow darts forward, the knife glinting dangerously in the dim basement light. Bucky doesn’t even bother to try and stop it, instead letting it bounce harmlessly off his metal arm. He grabs Rumlow’s wrist and squeezes until there is an audible sound of popping bone. The knife falls from his grasp. A quick punch to the temple and Rumlow goes down hard. Steve can’t tell from his angle if Rumlow’s breathing or not, but he can’t bring himself to care either way.

With Rumlow down Bucky calmly and efficiently begins taking down the others one by one. The stream of guards seems never ending however, as for every guard that falls another moves in to take his place. Bucky manages to maneuver himself closer to Steve, planting himself like a wall between Steve and the incoming Hydra goons, lest someone get the bright idea to go after Steve in his vulnerable state. There’s too many of them though, and as enhanced as Bucky is he is still only one man against dozens of guards. It’s a good effort and Steve is much happier that they are going to go down fighting instead of being tortured to death. He just hopes that it’ll be quick.

There’s a commotion coming from upstairs and the stream of guards coming down abruptly tapers off. Did Bucky manage to call for backup before getting captured? Steve desperately hopes so. He hears a hoarse laugh from Bucky. Clearly he is expecting whoever is upstairs.

A familiar figure appears in the doorway. A figure Steve thought he would never see again.

"Sam?!” Steve shouts. Sam grins at him.

“Were you expecting someone else?”

Sam bounds down the stairs, taking out the Hydra goons as he goes. Soon he stands shoulder to shoulder with Bucky, both of them never moving from their protective stance in front of Steve. Steve can’t take his eyes off Sam. Wonderful, skillful, _alive_ Sam. With the addition of Sam, the battle finally begins to turn in their favor. As the guards get less enthusiastic about fighting and more focused on escaping the fight Bucky finally breaks position. He snags the keys off his unconscious form and hurries back to Steve. As Bucky frees him, Sam deals with the last of the agents who were foolish enough to stick around and keep fighting.

Steve stumbles as he pulls free from the wall for the first time in days, but Bucky is there to catch him.

“Thanks Buck,” he murmurs. Bucky doesn’t answer, instead he looks around for any agents left standing. Seeing none, he reaches up to his ears. Out pop ear plugs.

"Ear plugs? Really?” Steve asks.

"They worked,” Bucky says, sounding downright smug.

“I told them they were a stupid idea,” Sam says coming to stand on Steve’s other side. Sam. Living breathing Sam. Steve pulls the decidedly not dead man into a tight hug. It pulls on his wounds uncomfortably but he doesn’t care. Sam squawks in surprise before returning the hug.

“Where’s my hug, I did all the hard work,” Bucky scoffs.

“They told me you were dead,” Steve says looking Sam over for injuries and finding none.

Sam scowls, shifting his gaze past Steve to Bucky, “you let them say that and didn’t even give him a clue that I was okay?”

“Sorry Steve. I didn’t know that’s what they were saying to you,” Bucky says sincerely apologetic, “it’s not like I could exactly hear what was going on.”

Steve waves away his apology because Sam is fine. Sam and Bucky are both fine and alive and here. Steve pulls Bucky into a hug as well. Exhaustion and blood loss is making Steve feel positively loopy, but he shakes his head and tries to focus. They aren’t out of danger yet, although as he surveys the scene of dead and unconscious men in front of him, he can’t imagine there are many left upstairs. Steve straightens up.

“Sam, how many people did you leave alive upstairs?” Steve says, “It might be better if we sneak out and avoid engaging with them if we can. We can come back with reinforcements later.”

Before Sam can answer Steve takes one step forward and his eyes roll back. It’s only Bucky’s and Sam’s quick reflexes that stop him from adding concussion to his list of injuries. Bucky gently slides his arms under the unconscious Steve and picks him up.

“So, we fighting our way out?” He asks.

"Yeah, we’re fighting,” Sam says.


	9. Epilogue

When Steve blinks into awareness a few hours later the first thing he is aware of is that he is horizontal for the first time in days. That’s nice. He even has pillows and someone tucked a blanket around him. There’s a quiet murmur of voices. Steve should probably get up and speak to them. There are probably important plans being made. In a moment he will. Steve’s eyelids get heavy and he drifts off to sleep.

Not long after Bucky pokes his head in to check on Steve.

"Should we wake him up?” he asks.

“No let him sleep,” Sam says.

“But he should probably eat something.”

“He can eat when he wakes up, let him sleep.”

Bucky pulls himself away from the doorframe and meets Sam’s eyes.

"We got him back.”

Sam smiles, “yeah we did. We made a pretty good team.”

“How about we celebrate before Steve wakes up by me telling you about the time a young Steve tried to adopt a cat and also learned that he was allergic to cats.”

“New memory?” Sam asks.

“Nah, I remembered that weeks ago,” Bucky’s grin turns mischievous, “I’ve just been waiting for a good opportunity to tell someone. I need someone who will properly appreciate the mental image of a tiny Steve trying to convince his Ma that he _needs_ this cat even as his face swells up.”

Sam laughs and thumps Bucky on the back.

"I’ll grab some beers from the fridge.”

The next time Steve wakes up, he feels significantly more coherent. Enough to realize that he’s in a hotel room, much nicer than the ones he has been staying in the past couple of months. He hears voices, and this time he recognizes them as Bucky and Sam. A warm feeling of contentment steals over him and he pushes back the covers. Thick bandages are wrapped around his chest and shoulders. He he recognizes as Sam’s handiwork and the feeling of contentment grows. As he moves the cuts pull slightly, but he can already feel them beginning to heal. He’s going to be fine. He follows the sound of voices, until he can begin to make out what they are saying.

“You should have seen him stumbling around, insisting he was sober,” Bucky’s voice washes over him. He sounds good. Happy and young in a way that’s rare these days, “Don’t think Sister Catherine believed him.”

Sam’s laughter fills up the room. It’s a nice sound. Steve is torn between listening in quietly on this rare moment of peace and joining in himself.

“Stop lurking Steve,” Bucky calls, not even looking over at him, “there’s room for you on the couch.”

Steve shuffles in and plops down on the couch next to Sam. Bucky is in the chair, still angled so he can see the door from his position. Both of them look relaxed and there is a faint hum of amusement surrounding them.

“I gather you two aren’t making plans to take down Hydra.” Steve observes.

"Sharon’s handling that. Right now, we’re on vacation until further notice,” Sam says.

Steve knows he should probably argue. Evil never takes a break, so neither should they, but he’s tired and he hasn’t had a vacation since 1938, and that wasn’t so much a vacation as he had come down with the flu and was too sick to work for a few weeks.

“Okay,” he says simply, settling himself deeper into the couch pillows. He lets his eyes drift close. He isn’t sleeping, he’s merely resting them as he lets the conversation pass overhead. Bucky and Sam both seem happy to let him be as they talk around him.

Bucky starts talking again but Steve isn’t paying attention. Until…

“Sometimes the small size came in handy, especially when he paired it with those big sad eyes that Becca taught him.”

"Are you talking about me?” Steve interrupts, opening his eyes. Sam and Bucky are looking far too innocent for his liking now that he takes a closer look.

“Sam has been helping me with my memories,” Bucky says.  Steve glances between them in surprise. Bucky only ever allowed Steve to help with that. He had never even hinted that he would be comfortable doing something so sensitive with Sam.

"Really?” Steve asks dumbly.

“Yeah, so far I’ve remembered that time Dougie Hogan tied you to the flagpole, the time you got slapped by Agnes for spilling ink on her dress, and the time you tried to sneak into the movies without a ticket and got caught my Mr. Bigsky.” Bucky says downright cheerfully.

“I’m noticing a theme here,” Steve says.

“Can I help it if I have so many memories of a snot nosed little brat following me around everywhere?” Bucky asks.

"See, there’s were you’re memories are wrong,” Steve grins, “I wasn’t following you. I was always running off and getting in trouble and you were following me.”

Bucky’s smile goes soft, “yeah, now that I think of it that seems about right.”

Steve feels warm and content under gazes of Bucky and Sam. Before the silence can become embarrassing Steve’s smile turns playful.

“So when did you two become best friends? I’ve been trying for months for you two to get along.”

“Well,” Sam says seriously, “we realized we actually had a lot in common.”

“Like a certain danger prone super soldier we are mutually responsible for,” Bucky says, and Sam’s serious demeanor dissolves into a grin. Steve rolls his eyes to stop the look of fondness creeping over his face. He’s not entirely successful.

“Don’t get yourself kidnapped again though,” Sam tells him sternly, Bucky nods giving him an equally disapproving look. They both look so much like disappointed parents that Steve can’t help but to laugh.

“I’ll do my best.” Steve says.

"Good, now I believe I have a story to finish.” Bucky says, launching back into his story. It’s an embarrassing one that Bucky had regaled the Howling Commandoes with many times over nighttime campfires. Bucky had always called it his “crowd pleaser.” Steve groans, but doesn’t try to stop him. If anyone deserved to be initiated into the embarrassing stories about Steve club its Sam. Still, Steve should have known that the only thing worse than having them constantly bickering, was having them get along too well.


End file.
